


Stars in their Hearts

by thatdameoverthere



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Characters Added As They Appear - Freeform, Lots of OC's, Post-Pacifist Route, Slavery, Terminal Illnesses, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 10:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6701038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatdameoverthere/pseuds/thatdameoverthere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frisk loved them, love her, but she was never going to stay on that mountain. She had left her home knowing that she would return and now that her journey as reached its crescendo it's time to make her way home. Maybe one day she will see the monsters she has learnt to call family again, but for now she has another family she needs to see.</p><p>(worldbuilding fic with a crossover with Journey)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars in their Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Don't get too excited, this is an experiment! I'm trying my hand a world building, using aspects of Journey. if this becomes a full blown fic it will be long but slow to update.
> 
> i know people are put off by OC's but please bare with me, this is, in essence, the story of Frisk and that mean Frisk's family. the world i am making is a fantasy world, a mix of old and new so expect weird combinations of tech.

 

Before all this, Frisk had heard many tales of adventure. Those stories were filled with awe and wonder, where the heroes would always win, that when the story was over they would return to everything they wanted in a golden sunset. Frisk often didn't hear the whole story, always having to hurry away to finish their errand or catch up to _Vasila_ Malat, a glance over their shoulder to try and keep their eyes locked onto the oddly dressed people playing out the story at one end of the plaza. Even after the _Ithop's_ , the actors, where out of sight she would strain her ears to listen to the endings. They were always such perfect endings. But Frisk was eleven, no, they were twelve now weren't they? Frisk was twelve now, and they knew that the real world isn't like the stories no matter how much she wished it was.

 

The sky wasn't the perfect golden red from the stories, there wasn't any music, or floating petals and leaves, or a white horse. It was mid-afternoon, and the sky was overcast with clouds fat with rain. Frisk was tired too. Her clothes had dust and sand and dirt ground deep between the threads, her hair was slimy and pulled tightly into a small bun on top of their head. Frisk had a small cloth satchel over one shoulder and a scuffed water skin tied tightly to her hip. She stood at the edge of a small cliff that bordered a valley with a wide river winding through it. And there, below and to the side, was her home. Stone houses on slightly raised legs sprawled by the side of the river, farms sectioned apart by wooden and stone fences and flat stone roads. As the houses drew closer to the cliffy walls of the valley they grew closer together, taller. Frisk could see the main plaza from where she stood, and produce, wares and common plaza's branching off from it. And just a little further, nestled into the wall of the cliff Frisk stood on was the palace, carved from the living stone.

 

Looking down at the city of Kardipetra, Frisk felt her soul settle warmly inside herself.

 

It took only a little over an hour for Frisk to traverse one of the paths down the valley walls, and barely any longer to reach the first houses. From where she came down she was fairly close to the walls surrounding the main city and only had to pass a hand full of the outer farms to reach it. But Frisk did not go unnoticed. Some people she passed and they didn't turn their heads, but Frisk expected that from them. No, it was the flashes of reds and tans and browns between the bright colours of the Kardipetran people that noticed Frisk. As Frisk travelled along the roads to the main city she would smile as another of the red cloaked figures would turn towards her. They didn't follow, but Frisk passed one on the road and paused, the others red cloak and golden accents almost seem to glow in the grey light, a hand rest gently on her shoulder for a moment. The cloaked woman hummed warmly, and Frisk knew that behind the cloth covering much of her face that that the tall woman was smiling.

 

Frisk kept on. The young girl passed many more of the cloaked people, and heard many more hums and trills and cries of welcome that warmed Frisk entire body with something she had missed so desperately. The guards at the walls raised their brows when she passed, both without cloaks, but did not stop her. Looking around Frisk felt she could spend weeks wandering through the streets again, find all the nooks and crannies she had once roamed with ease. But she didn't. Frisk had a destination, and she had to get there. She needed to see her family.

 

It had been such a long time since Frisk had seen them. Her Grandmother, her brother. She has missed them since the moment she left. She worried about them since the moment she left. Frisk was young, she knew that, but she wasn't stupid. She knew why her Grandmother had sent her away, why Grandmother Nona and her leader had demanded she be allowed to go on her journey so soon. So soon, while her brother’s journey had been refused. She had not even learnt to make her cloak!

 

Frisk frowned, her soft red eyes squinting a little more beneath her fringe. She was closer to the palace now, the walls looming above her. Frisk veered to the left to travel along the length of the stone and wood wall, away from the main gate and towards a smaller server’s entrance.

 

Frisk knew that when a child came of age, they would make their cloak, and go on their journey. But Frisk also knew that they had to leave their cloaks behind. Insurance, that's what Nona called it when Frisk had asked why. But Frisk hadn't yet come of age, and she hadn't made her cloak, so when she had to go on her journey so soon, it was her sash that she had left behind. The sash that her parents made her when she was young, as all parents do for their children. She couldn’t wait to get it back and finally be able to sing again.

 

The palace grounds were of decent size, Frisk supposed. From the servers entrance she could see the main gate and the entrance path. Off the side of that was the stables, and Frisk could see a familiar tan form leading a large horse across the way. She smiled and wanted to call out, but didn't. She was so close now, and Frisk turned back and headed to the edge of the palace. Nestled into the little nook made by the wall of the palace itself, the surrounding wall, and the cliff were two small huts. Round and made from mud and sticks instead of stone and worked wood, they stood out against the stone where they seemed to melt against one another. The doors were just familiar archways guarded by woven red and brown cloths. There was a round opening at the top of both huts, covered by thatch and seeping smoke.

 

Frisk paused before she entered. It wasn't nerves, or hesitation, but suddenly Frisk felt so full that she felt she would burst. Her breath hitched and her fists clenched as her soul pulsed and filled her from the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair before simmering back down. Frisk let out the breath she was holding and gathered herself. She pushed aside the cloth and stepped inside.

 

The inside was just as round as the outside, Frisk thought humorously. A fire sat in the centre of the hut, wooden beams stretch the length of the hut above frisks head, some had woven carpets draped over them, others had jars, or bundles of fruit and drying plants. Next to the fire pit as a haphazard pile of flat cooking bowls, both metal and wood, and surrounding it was three worn pillows. Rugs scattered over the floor protected her from the hard ground as she padded to side opposite the door where three straw beds also made from woven rugs and blankets. Two looked well used and kept, while the last had a slight layer of dust. Frisk smiled at them, and dropped her bag onto her dusty bed. She looked around at her home, all familiar angular patterns and warm coloured fabrics. Being surrounded by it all again made Frisk look down at herself, and the striped sweater, threadbare shorts and sturdy boots she wore. They were so different from what she used to wear, but she had had them for so long in her journey, since before she found that mountain. With a decisive click of her tongue Frisk decided she would keep the clothes, but she needed to change. Frisk missed the loose cotton like fabric of her own clothes

 

It didn’t really make much sense, but with her old clothes now draped and wrapped around her Frisk felt somehow freer.

 

It was while Frisk was tucking her dirty clothes into the chest that stood between two of the beds that she heard the sway of fabric from the other hut. Frisk left her things behind to investigate. She knew it could only be one of three people and she would be happy with any of them. Standing in the entrance of the other hut Frisk just watched the other. They were older than her, but hadn't yet come of age and still wore his childhood sash like she would be if she had it. His hair was darker than hers, wavy and loose and bobbing as he shuffled packages of what Frisk could only assume was food around. He wore loose tan clothes in the same style as her own, that were bound tight around his wrists and ankles and wearing sock like, soft leather shoes.

 

Without her voice Frisk clucked her tongue to get his attention. He started but turned his dark skinned face towards her. She laughed silently at his shock, and then at his excited flustering. Then she promptly wrapped herself around her old friend and listened as he twittered in welcome shock.

 

_"Frisk! Frisk, Frisk, you're home! Welcome home Frisk! When did you get back? Have you seen anyone else? Have you spoken with Father or Nona? Can I ask yet?"_ Frisk just clung tight and let her friends singing wash over her, she felt his love and his welcome and his relief stretch through his skin into her and she sent back her own love and relief to be home, the best she can do while she had no sash, and no voice.

 

I have missed you Varn, Frisk thought and wanted nothing else but to sing it to him.

 

Pulling back from her friend Frisk shook a negative to him. No, she hadn't spoken to her Chieftain or her grandmother but she would, she needed to be officially welcomed back from her journey before she could speak about it.

 

Varn chuckled and nodded and Frisk only loved him more when his eyes shone brightly with excitement. _"I can't say where Nona or Tohl are, but Father is with Vasila Malat in the palace if you wished to find him, no doubt he could also get your sash back."_ while Frisk would have certainly loved to get her sash back from Vasila Malat she lost all interest as she latched onto that name.

 

Frisk hind gripped Varn's forearm, having to reach up to the taller boy, and made a motion towards her heart then sweeping to the joint wall between the huts. Her eyes latch onto his warm dark ones and she saw him soften with a sad little smile.

 

_"Tohl? He's walking now. Nona only allowed him out and about two months ago. He…he can't go back to his work in the stables, so I took over, but he helps Nona, carries some of her herbs and such."_ Frisk let out a shaky breath and smiled at Varn.

 

When she had left for her Journey Frisk had been furious. She hadn't wanted to go, not after her brothers own journey had been refused and… Frisk had wanted to stay by his side and be there for him, but Nona had begged her, pleaded that she please, please go and don’t fall to the Stagnance like her brother has. The Stagnance, all of her people new of it, and Nona says that it's something that the stories from Before tell little about, because it really only became a problem when they fell to the Kardipsians. Where a child is held back from their Journey for so long that it withers their soul and while it can be seen approaching it can often strike hard and fast and with no mercy. Some die within a few days, some can hold on longer. Some can even go years in Stagnance before they finally wither. There is no cure they know of and the afflicted is always too week to go on their Journey after it hits.

 

And Tohl… Frisk's brother had fallen to Stagnance and Grandmother Nona had begged for Frisk's own journey so she wouldn't fall to it as well. In the end it had been Tohl that sent Frisk away. Too weak to even open his eyes he had sung to her how proud he was that she would be going on her journey, and that when she came back he would be waiting for her, and he wanted to her all her stories.

 

_"He's not good,"_ Varn sings as they stand together in his families hut, _"But he's better. I'm sure he will be very excited to see you."_

 

* * *

 

 

_The History of Kardipsus, Vol. 2_

_Chapter 9_

_The Taming if the Wanderers_

_It is after the first siege made by our neighbours the Pedites that we saw in ourselves a weakness. The numbers of our soldiers were low and our defences weak, we needed more hands to work and fight if we wanted to survive. It was during this time that our trade partners in the desert had travelled to us to sell their wares and buy new stock, and in them we saw what we needed. We asked them for help, that we were weak and would they fight by us? They refused._

_We knew the Rutharians were strong, they had an old magic within them like the mages to the west, a magic that they could use to help us. But they still refused no matter how we begged. For a short while we fell back from them but still we needed hands to fight._

_It was but one of the three Rutharian tribes and when we want to them and demanded aid they fell to our might. We knew their cloaks and cloth creatures held special meaning to them, so we took them, and said they will be returned when we have won. When at first they refused, we burned their cloth creatures, and as many of them screamed and cried out as if they were the ones in pain they relented._

_Our numbers had grown and now we waited to the next strike from the Pedites_


End file.
